


Champion

by Kami_del_Antro



Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game), Guild Wars Series (Video Games)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Guild Wars 2 - Freeform, Guild Wars 2 Living World, Guild Wars 2 Living World Season 3, Guild Wars 2 Living World Season 4, Guild Wars 2 Living World Season 5, Guild Wars 2: Heart of Thorns, Guild Wars 2: Path of Fire, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Motherhood, Near Death Experiences, Spoilers, Temporary Character Death, commander week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24330208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kami_del_Antro/pseuds/Kami_del_Antro
Summary: Since the tragic ending of the Maguuma campaign, Sinéad finds herself straddled with a new responsibility. But even if she's not ready for the task at hand, Aurene will show her a different kind of love.Spoilers for Heart of Thorns onwards!Day 2: ChampionHow did your Commander feel about being chosen by Glint’s egg as its Champion? Were they excited? Honored? Concerned? How did the people close to them react to it? How is their relationship with Aurene, how does it develop? Did becoming Aurene’s Champion change them in any way, be it physically or mentally?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Champion

**Author's Note:**

> This is my (again) late entry for Commander week! This time it's about Sinéad's relationship with her status as Aurene's champion. She had a lot to learn and figure out, and not everything was a smooth sailing, mostly because of the dying part of the process.
> 
> I wrote Aurene's dialogue Like That because I want to impart a sense that she's not exactly speaking, but rather connecting with whoever she's communicating with. Her voice booms in someone's head very much alike any Dragon's, but she's kind enough to restrain that power and only talk in a chill way with her friends.

**__ **

**_Champion!_ **

Sinéad jumped awake, sitting up on her bedding and looking around for her warhammer. But upon examining her surroundings, she realized she was no longer in the middle of the Maguuma jungle. The fire was long gone, but embers still persisted on the nearby fireplace. The darkness wasn’t as deep in Hoelbrak, compared to the depths of the Heart of Thorns.

She rubbed her face, breathing in, and out. Right at the edge of her memory, she could recall unquiet dreams. Dreams about loss and death. Dreams she didn’t want to ponder about.

“Sinéad?” someone called; the groggy, deep, soothing voice of a sleepy bear. Sinéad glanced at the man beside her. She had almost forgotten his face in all that time away from home.

“Go to sleep, Sigfast,” she grumbled, getting up. “I’ll be back.”

He disobeyed, of course. As he sat up, the mess of bedsheets they had made untangled from his body, revealing the hardened muscles that contrasted so starkly with the face of a norn who was still young, yet no longer a teen. Sinéad sighed, defeated, as she walked towards the round window that dominated the cave Sigfast’s homestead was nested in.

She crossed her arms, the cold barely bothering her despite her nakedness.

“You had that dream again,” Sigfast guessed, walking towards her. Sinéad grimaced. “Want to talk about it?”

“No,” she stated. Sigfast nodded, looking out as well.

The dream kept echoing on Sinéad’s head. She could still feel Trahearne’s cold, thick blood running down the hilt of his sword, staining her gauntlets. She held up her hands, studying them. The hardened hands of a warrior, no doubt about it. Blood had stained her weapons so many times. But never the blood of a friend.

And yet, the horror gave way to something else. For Sinéad remembered the bright, blinding ray of light, shooting up in the sky, landing on Tarir. Feeding, nurturing something else. Something new.

Those same hands, used to destroy, had saved Glint’s egg. She had carried the prismatic, crystalline substance, so alike a prized gem, with the same hands she used to kill her friend and comrade. Everyone in Tarir was so reverent about her task, her _part_ in Glint’s plan. Which plan was that, she still didn’t know. She didn’t ask for it. She didn’t want to take part in the schemes of Dragons.

When she had killed the Frostgorge Ghost, all those years ago, she set out to destroy Jormag. Now, her path was muddled, covered in shadows. Everything seemed so easy before. Everything seemed so close to her grasp.

Slowly, softly, Sigfast took her hands in his, distracting her. He studied them; so full of hardnesses and scars from endless battles and rigorous training. But still he brushed the surface with his thumb, quietly humming. His hands were warm, and soft. Barely calloused by sword practice and the few scruffles with unruly svanir or drunk warriors.

“You’re soft,” he mumbled. Sinéad blinked, then frowned.

“Compared to what, you Bear cub?” she snarked. “Dragonscale?”

Sigfast blinked, and tilted his head.

“No, I mean, your hands are actually soft,” he insisted. “They’re nice to touch.”

She chuckled, retrieving one of her hands to mess up Sigfast’s long, braided hair.

“Who do you think you’re sweet-talking, huh?” she teased. Sigfast smiled under his beard, genuinely happy to see her lighten up.

“The legendary Dragonslayer, of course,” he clarified. Sinéad lightly punched his arm.

“Buy me a beer first,” she instructed.

As they got dressed up to look for an open brewery so late at night, Sinéad contemplated her hands one more time. Instruments of destruction, and death. She had trained to become nothing more. She never thought she could be soft, or warm.

**_I come for you, champion!_ **

Sinéad opened her eyes, shielding them from the unbearable glow. What to expect from the egg of a Dragon? A sliver of her mind was ready to strike; alone, hidden from prying eyes, she would strike with no compassion if it turned out to be a trap. The egg had absorbed Mordremoth’s magic. And she still remembered Mordremoth’s bite.

But when the light died down, and she could finally contemplate her enemy, she found two shining, inquisitive eyes. The Dragon extended her wings, endlessly fascinated by the world around it, and by the norn in front of it.

And then, the Dragon smiled. Her little maw curving upwards, as her feet tapped the pedestal she rested on. _Her_. It was a her. How did Sinéad know?

The norn advanced, kneeling in front of the pedestal, gazing deep into the Dragon’s eyes. She waved her wings, and bumped her nose with Sinéad’s forehead. _What was going on now?_ Something moved inside of her as she contemplated the Dragon baby, as she felt her breathing, as she heard her warm, inhuman, throaty chatter. She needed her. She was no threat, no new enemy, no new trap to ensnare her and threatening everything she had worked so hard to protect.

She was just a baby. A chubby, defenseless, scaly baby who stared at her with endless love.

“Hey there, girl,” Sinéad murmured. And the Dragon chattered, excitedly patting the pedestal with her paws.

She held out her hand, attempting to touch the creature’s forehead. But she suddenly hissed, stepping backwards and fluttering her wings menacingly.

The golden light of the egg chamber dimmed down. Sinéad turned, warhammer in hand, ready to strike. From every crevice and every secondary cavern emerged dark shadows; crawling with studied malevolence, stinking of putrefaction and the sickly sweet smell of rotten wood.

Destroyers. Feeding off magic, looking for an easy prey. But they weren’t counting on Sinéad being there. Frustrated and confused, ready to bash skull and rock to take it out on something that deserved it.

“Stay behind me, gal,” she instructed, and the Dragon chattered once more, extending her wings. “I’ll show you a thing or two about being alive.”

**_Aurene!_ **

“Aurene!” Sinéad called, sighing deeply. How could a fucking _Dragon_ get lost so easily in a golden chamber, no less?

She sought for her between the columns and under the underground river; above her pedestal and through the corridors that ran below Tarir; to no avail. The Dragon cub -cub? Was ‘cub’ the right word to call her?- was nowhere to be found.

Frustrated, Sinéad let her weight fall on a column, sliding down to the ground with a sigh. Why was she even the so-called champion? She wasn’t the motherly type - far from it, in fact. Being a mother wasn’t even in her plans in the first place. Kyrie was much better suited for that task.

She gritted her teeth. Kyrie always read for Aurene, teaching her about history and morals and how to behave properly. She sang her songs of glory and loss, about the terrible prize of freedom, and the ever-burning flame of hope. The Dragon baby usually fell asleep on her lap, as Kyrie caressed her scaly forehead and left her with a kiss goodbye. Why wasn’t _she_ the champion? She seemed much more prepared for it, anyway. Eager, even.

But Aurene always gravitated to her; always contemplating with those big, bright eyes, always patting the floor with her tiny feet. Trying to fly, trying to eat bugs, trying to get a bite off Frostfang one time and earning a brief scorn and a stern talk.

Sinéad wasn’t Kyrie; she was aware of that. She didn’t have the tact and the motherly tenderness, nor the wise, royal poise and prestige. She was good at one thing and one thing only: fighting. And she had tried to teach Aurene.

It had gone poorly. After a badly-timed suplex, the little baby grumbled and ran off, escaping in a flurry of wings and whines. She thought it would be better for her to let Aurene cool off and return another day. The Luminate, Ruka, Kyrie and Caithe disagreed.

Sinéad grumbled. How was she supposed to know what to do now? Aurene didn’t want anything to do with her, and she didn’t understand what was all the fuss about. She was a Dragon. She had to grow strong. And Sinéad was the Pact Commander, the Dragonslayer. She was no tender, motherly figure. She didn’t know any songs of legend or fables with a nice moral. She knew tavern songs and dirty poems that made the Spirits blush. She knew how to bench press four sylvari sitting on a plank, each with their armors and weapons, and a couple pints of beer for good measure.

All she had done to be Aurene’s champion was touching that damn egg first. If only she had delayed, maybe Kyrie would be the one searching for her to apologize.

“I don’t know how to fucking do this!” she grumbled, punching the ground beside her. “They told me to teach her how to kick ass, and I did. She wasn’t supposed to get scared… that’s how I learned!”

She sighed, closing her eyes and throwing her head backwards. And she heard the low rumble right behind her column.

Sinéad turned just to see a blur of movement hiding behind the column. She stood up, walking around and standing with her hands on her hips.

“I know you’re there, gal,” she said. “Come out. Kyrie’s worried.”

The veil of stealth dropped, and Aurene peeked from behind the column. In her eyes, fear and confusion. Sinéad blinked, dropping down on one knee.

“Hey,” she called, offering the Dragon an empty hand. “It’s me. I ain’t gonna hurt you. That’s the opposite of my job.”

Slowly, carefully, Aurene came out of the column, sitting in front of the norn with her head down. She tilted her head.

“You’re-” she cut herself, frowning. “Sad. You’re sad. Why are you sad.”

Aurene glanced up at her, and grumbled as she took a step back. Sinéad huffed.

“Hey, I’m-” confused, she kneeled down on the floor, raising her hands in a placating gesture. “I’m not angry at you. It’s just-... this is hard, okay? I’m not good at this.”

The Dragon peeked at her once more, as Sinéad tried to find the precise words.

“I thought you needed to learn how to fight,” she said, staring down at her hands. “I want you to know how to defend yourself. You gotta, you know? But I guess…”

She closed her eyes, sighing.

“I guess you’re just a baby,” she grumbled. “You don’t need me dropping you on your little, scaly head.”

As she glanced at Aurene, she grimaced, as if the words she was about to utter disgusted her greatly as they rolled out her tongue.

“I’m sorry, gal,” she said. “I guess you’re not ready for that yet.”

Aurene stepped closer, still shy, and Sinéad offered her a hand to bump her nose into. The Dragon scooted closer, rubbing her neck and spine against Sinéad’s hand, before resting on her lap. The norn snickered, as she held her up and sat once again with her back to the column.

“But I guess you’re not too young to hear about the greatest norn legend ever,” she commented, as Aurene glanced at her with her big, goofy smile. “I mean, of course, my legend.”

**_I’ll keep you safe, as you’ve kept me safe._ **

Sinéad felt something burning, clawing its way up her throat, and with an agonic cough, she realized it was blood. As Balthazar crushed her with his bare hand against a column, the searing heat melting her armor against her skin, she screamed in agony, hearing the sizzling and burning of her own body ringing on her ears. She couldn’t even hear Kyrie’s cries now.

When she dropped, she realized she was in trouble. Getting up seemed like an impossible task, but somehow, someway, she felt her muscles reinvigorated. She glanced up at her enemy, and the God raised his hand as she got on her feet again. He was toying with her. Keeping her alive only to torture her further for her transgressions against Him.

“Feeling mortal yet, Commander?” Balthazar’s voice boomed above her, as she grabbed her warhammer once more. “We’re not finished here.”

She had to keep on fighting. She could hear her allies calling for her, too close to the battle for comfort. If she was to fall, what would be left for them? Who would stop Balthazar from His rampage across the desert? It had to happen. It had to be this way.

Suddenly, a flash of purple light, and a shining axe hit Balthazar in the face. He turned towards the new menace, and Sinéad saw Kyrie, retrieving her weapon as her image multiplied.

“No!” she called, limping towards the confrontation. But Kyrie silenced her with a gesture, as Balthazar turned towards her and smiled.

“A family gathering,” He claimed, fire igniting His gaze. “How convenient.”

“I won’t let you touch her again,” Kyrie warned, as Balthazar launched his attack. He missed, shattering a mirror image as the norn attacked him from the back, making him grunt.

“Kyrie-...” Sinéad called, blood dripping from her mouth. It was useless. She was merely stalling Him to allow them to leave. This was her heroic sacrifice. And now Kyrie was in the line of fire, attacking and evading the God’s divine fire.

Balthazar glanced at both women, and smirked. Sinéad felt her stomach drop.

“You mortals are so useful,” He claimed, before raising His sword in the air. Kyrie stopped her attack, realizing the God’s trap was more subtle, more devilish than she had anticipated. It wasn’t mere revenge. It was more than that.

An explosion of fire threw both norn to the ground once again. Sinéad crawled, trying to stand up, seeing Kyrie struggle to overcome her burns. But Balthazar grabbed her from her clothes; everything He touched catching fire.

“Never defy a God,” he muttered, before throwing her against a column. Sinéad roared, as Kyrie fell limp to the ground, fresh burns branding her skin.

Sinéad attacked once more, parrying Balthazar’s sword, feeling the searing heat on her hands as she pushed against His might. She felt fangs against her lower lip, and the strength of Snow Leopard taking over, as a savage roar ravaged her throat. But Balthazar wasn’t impressed. If anything, He seemed amused.

“Suffer a little more loudly!” He said, breaking the parry with a wave of His arm.

Sinéad dropped down once more, and Balthazar held her by the neck, searing her skin once more.

“Cry out!” He ordered, as smoke began to cloud Sinéad’s vision. And she obeyed, feeling the smell of her own hair burning up. “Let everyone hear!”

He discarded her like a piece of trash. But even in her desperate state, she could only see, through the smoke of her own funerary pyre, Kyrie with her eyes closed, like a queen sleeping on her royal chambers. What had she done? What had she dragged her friends and allies to?

“How sad for you to die so far from home,” Balthazar lamented, as He raised His sword once more. Sinéad closed her eyes, thinking of Sigfast, waiting for her return. As always.

A known chatter made Sinéad violently turn towards the west. And so did Balthazar, triumphant.

“Ah, the scion,” He noted, as Aurene flew towards Him. Sinéad knew that glance in her eyes. It was determination. “Come here, defend your champion.”

“Aurene… no!” Sinéad called. But it was in vain. She was to die now, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

**_Champion._ **

The light was blinding, and as Sinéad blinked, she couldn’t remember…

**_Commander._ **

That voice. She had heard it once, in a blurry haze. The voice that gave herself a name, struggling as she wove letter by letter in a loving tapestry.

**_Mother._ **

“Aurene,” Sinéad murmured, blinking in the white light. A small, tiny Dragon with iridescent scales jumped around, chasing fireflies. Upon hearing her name, however, she turned towards her. And she smiled; a big, pure smile of love.

**_You’re here._ **

The voice claimed in the white void, as Aurene ran clumsily towards Sinéad; her short legs barely enough to aid her on her task, her untrained wings flapping behind her.

Sinéad knelt down, stretching out her palm, ready to receive the little baby Dragon on her arms.

Aurene bumped her nose on Sinéad’s hand. Big and powerful, speaking with her own voice, as she closed her eyes.

**_I felt your pain. I felt-…_ **

Norn and Dragon stared deep into each other’s eyes.

**_You almost gave up._ **

The light faded, but only slightly. The tall walls of the egg chamber surrounded them, but almost as if from far away. Through the infinite refractions of a crystal.

The blast. The pain. The horrible silence. And Aurene’s body; broken in fractals, shattered by cruel crystallization.

“I… We,” Sinéad murmured, lowering her head. “We almost lost you.”

Aurene stepped up, and Sinéad felt the warm bump of her nose on her forehead.

**_I’m sorry. You cried. You never cry._ **

“I was supposed to protect you,” Sinéad said, clenching her teeth. “You weren’t supposed to… you didn’t deserve this pain.”

The pain of death. The pain of Vlast. The pain of Glint. The pain of herself.

**_I won’t give up. Just like you._ **

Suddenly furious, Sinéad opened her eyes, breaking the contact.

“You weren’t supposed to die,” she grunted, standing up. “You’re too… you’re not ready. You-…”

**_I know you’re angry. But I need you to understand._ **

“Understand what?” Sinéad growled, gesticulating angrily. “Don’t go all cryptic on me like Glint!”

Aurene recoiled only but slightly, but rose her head, and opened her wings once more. A low growl of annoyance on her throat.

**_It was my choice_ **

**_Just like you decided to die for me_ **

**_I decided to die for you_ **

Once again, dragon and norn stared at each other’s eyes; embers burning in defiance of impossible odds, and a love that refused to give up.

**_If you had given up… I don’t know what would’ve been of me._ **

A soft murmur, a pained whisper. Sinéad refused to cry yet again, but tears pooled in her eyes and her lip trembled. She was just like her. _Spirits, she’s just like me._

**_Wake up, champion._ **

One last time, Sinéad opened her eyes to the blinding light. She blinked, trying to adjust her eyes, but to no avail. The light was too strong. Too overpowering.

She sat up - action which was met with a grumble of disagreement. And only then she looked up towards the towering figure who kept vigil on her dreams.

“Hey, gal,” Sinéad murmured, touching her chest. It was firmly bandaged. It still hurt. “I had one hell of a day.”

 **_“I know,”_ ** Aurene replied, nodding.

“I almost died,” she recounted.

 **_“I saw,”_ ** Aurene said, nodding once more. **_“Please, stop doing that.”_ **

Sinéad chuckled under her breath, as Aurene grumbled once more. But the way she tapped her perch with her claws betrayed her solemn visage; she was happy. Her eyes were still inquisitive, and curious. Her gaze towards her was still loving.

“Where are we?” Sinéad asked, looking around. Aurene grumbled once more.

 **_“The Eye of the North, they call it,”_ ** she replied, glancing at her back. Crystallized flowers and plants bloomed around her, and each time she flapped her wings, the crystallization grew just a little. **_“I’ve taken the liberty to establish myself here.”_ **

“I can see that,” Sinéad snickered. “I like what you did to the place.”

 **_“Your ancestors probably disagree,”_ ** Aurene pointed out.

They both laughed, until Sinéad had to stretch and take a deep breath. Her wounds were still not properly healed, but both knew better than to expect her to wait until the time was right. And so their laughs fell in silence, as they both tried to find the right words.

“I’m glad you’re okay, gal,” Sinéad muttered. Aurene turned towards her champion, her claws softly scraping the ground around her, crystalline flowers blooming.

**_“I’m glad to see you again, champion.”_ **


End file.
